


Good Boys Get Rewards

by purple_bookcover



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Cowgirl Position, F/M, Femdom, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, toe sucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:07:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29907090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_bookcover/pseuds/purple_bookcover
Summary: Yuri sends Balthus to Manuela's office to steal some medicines for Abyss. When she catches him at it, she puts the boy to work.
Relationships: Balthazar von Adalbrecht | Balthus von Albrecht/Manuela Casagranda
Comments: 3
Kudos: 17





	Good Boys Get Rewards

**Author's Note:**

> This was for the Balthus Zine, Solaris, but I don't remember what I titled it there ><;;;

“Yuri, this is stupid.”

“We need supplies.”

Balthus folded his arms over his chest and scowled at his boss. “That doesn’t really address the problem of picking me compared to, say, literally anyone else.”

Yuri just shrugged, his enigmatic smile unwavering. 

“Also,” Balthus said, “we have healers. Plenty of healers. Why do we even need this stuff?”

Yuri sighed. “Am I required to explain my every reason to you? I gave you a task. The underground needs supplies – _those_ supplies, if you please.”

Balthus was about to protest more, but then Yuri added: “Or have you forgotten how our last bet ended?”

Yuri raised a thin eyebrow, fixing Balthus with sharp violet eyes. Balthus may have towered over Yuri, but he felt small in the piercing heat of that gaze. 

Not to mention … that bet. To say Balthus had lost would be an understatement. He’d doubled down until he was nearly betting his damn life. Frankly, this task was an easy out compared to what Yuri had every right to demand of him. 

Balthus huffed out a breath. “Fine.” His shoulders slumped, even as that smile on Yuri’s lips curled. 

“Fabulous,” Yuri said. “I look forward to your success.”

Balthus bit back his grumbles, slouching away through the underground. This was going to be a long, long night.

#

The Officers Academy lay dark when Balthus crept out of Abyss and into cool, crisp air. Stars prickled the oily black canopy of night. A sliver of moon attempted to light Balthus’s way, but he still had to pause in a nook and let his eyes adjust to the dark.

He lumbered toward the school buildings. Balthus hunched, trying to move quickly and quietly, but it was a comical effort. Seriously, why had Yuri chosen _him_ of all people for this? Yuri was far better suited to sneaking around unseen. Balthus had neither the skill nor the desire to move undetected.

Still, he reached the Central Building without incident. The doors remained open and unlocked, of course. This academy never truly slept. Overzealous students, Professor Hanneman with his obsessive research, Linhardt on his bizarre sleep schedule – any one of them might make use of the facilities even in the dead of night. 

Balthus paused just inside the hall, listening, but there was nothing, not even the scurrying of a mouse. He slipped through the dark and up the stairs to reach the second floor.

Then he paused, letting out a slow, silent breath.

There were an awful lot of knights and professors and higher ups who used this floor, an awful, awful lot. They were important people, the kind of people who would know Balthus didn’t belong at 100 paces. 

He lingered at the top of the stairs, his heart beating loud in his ears, his breath too noisy as it squeezed from his tightened chest. 

Still nothing, absolutely nothing, no matter how long he waited. He crept out slowly nonetheless, starting down the hall with agonizingly careful steps. Which door was it? Which door? He dug through his memory for Yuri’s instructions, but all this lacquered oak shit looked the same. Then he found the entrance marked with Professor Manuela’s name.

Locked. Shit. Of course. 

OK, no problem. Yuri had prepared him for this part too.

He took out a sliver of metal and fitted it into the lock, wiggling it around in the careful, delicate way Yuri had shown him. Yuri’s hands were way more suited to this, slender and clever, but eventually the pins gave way with a click. 

He almost couldn’t believe it when he stood in Manuela’s office. He’d done it. He’d really done it. He wanted to let out a whoop of victory, but that would kind of defeat the point of everything he’d just done. 

Right, best to get to work. 

He set about browsing the shelves, putting this or that herb or jar or concoction in a bag. He stopped frequently to reference the list Yuri had given him. He didn’t take much, attempting to leave the shelves full-looking at a glance. 

“If all goes well,” Yuri had said, “they won’t even know anything’s gone until and unless they do a proper inventory of the place. We’re just taking a little excess off their hands, yeah?”

Excess. Sure. Balthus didn’t really care what it was called. He just wanted to get this over with and get back underground. He didn’t need to add a bunch of fancy medicines to the tally against him.

The door slammed open.

Balthus gasped, spinning around, dropping into a crouch. 

The woman in the doorway halted, blinking at him. “My, my, what have we here?” Manuela hiccuped to punctuate her question. 

She tottered into her office, seemingly unconcerned with the intruder rifling through her medicines. Manuela kicked the door shut with her foot, then swayed into the room. She strode right up to Balthus, setting a finger under his chin.

“You’re that – hic – one of those Abyss dwellers, aren’t you?” 

“How do you know that?” he said, yet he did not move away from her touch, that single finger holding him in place.

“Oh, I know many things, darling,” Manuela said. 

She removed her finger with a flick, sauntering to the chair behind her desk and flopping into it. Even in that slinky white dress, she spread her legs wide, looking absurdly at-ease in the face of an intruder. 

“So,” she said, “what are you here for, hm? What’s in the bag? Medicine, I suppose. Underground running low?” 

Well, there was no point denying any of it now. “Boss sent me here for supplies.”

“Supplies, huh?” she said. “You might have asked, you know.”

Balthus shrugged. “Folks up here usually aren’t so interested in helping us. We fend for ourselves.”

“Ah, you do, don’t you? Well, for the record, you may – hic – you may ask me, in the future. I could be amenable to your request.”

Balthus knew a raw deal when he heard one. “Could be, huh? On what condition?”

She smiled and it was so sharp it almost reminded him of Yuri. “You’re a bit quicker than you look. Don’t scowl. I think you’ll find my terms entirely fair. You want medicine. Fine. But medicine takes time, time I could be spending doing other things. I can make extra and I can give it to you, but it will mean some of my personal tasks go neglected around here.”

“What kind of tasks?” He was already setting the bag on the floor, prepared for her demands.

“Oh, just this and that. At the moment, I’ve had these heels on all day and they are absolute murder on my poor feet, darling.” 

Balthus sighed, leaving the bag of medicine behind as he approached Manuela sitting behind her desk.

“That was easy,” she said.

“What choice do I have?” Balthus said. 

“What choice do you want to have?” 

That stalled him, left him standing before her mute. She smirked up at him and again Balthus felt very small despite his towering height. It was not an entirely unwelcome sensation. 

“Oh,” she said, smile spreading. “I see.”

He wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, but he swallowed all the same, trembling before her judgment, waiting for her next instruction. 

Manuela sat up a little straighter in her chair, eyes sharpening. 

“Down.”

The drunkenness was gone; the hiccups evaporated. The command in that single word was like a fist right to Balthus’s chest. His breaths thinned to sips. His heart hammered. 

He dropped to his knees. 

Manuela leaned forward, petting his hair back away from his face. 

“Very good,” she said. He could smell the alcohol on her breath as her words puffed against his face. “You’ll do just fine, won’t you?”

He nodded, hating himself even as he did it. But something in the way her voice had roughened, something in kneeling on the ground before her – it set his very blood on fire. He clenched his hands to hide the quiver of excitement and anticipation rippling across his palms. 

“The shoes, darling,” Manuela said. 

She sat back, raising one foot. Balthus plucked at the ties around her ankle with trembling fingers, then slipped the heel free. He massaged her foot, thumbs rubbing into the arch. 

Manuela moaned, tipping her head back. She squirmed in her chair, eyes closing.

“Yes, darling,” she said. “Mmm, just like that.”

Balthus’s trousers suddenly felt tighter. Gods, all he was doing was touching her foot. But the way she writhed, the way her breasts heaved with labored breaths, the noises she made as his thumbs dug in – they had him harder and harder by the moment. 

He dared bring that foot to his mouth, tentatively sucking on a single toe. He tightened his lips around it, watching her, waiting. 

“Go on,” Manuela said. 

He leapt to obey, sucking on her toe, laving his tongue over it. Meanwhile, he kept his thumbs working, kneading against the bottom of her foot. Her toes curled and she nibbled on her lip.

Suddenly, she yanked that foot free of his mouth. He nearly whimpered at the loss, but thought better of it. 

“There’s another one,” she said. 

Thank the gods. He set to the task of getting her other foot free of its shoe, of using his thumbs to ease the tension out, of licking at her big toe, tasting the salt on her skin, savoring the way her foot curled. 

“Well,” Manuela said, breathier than before, “you are a good boy, aren’t you?”

He popped her toe free to respond, “Yes, ma’am. I am.” 

“Mmm good.” She leaned forward, fingers carding through his hair. “Good boys get rewards.” 

Heat washed through his body, cock twitching in his pants. He had no idea what she meant, but he wanted it nonetheless. Even just getting to suck on her toes again made his head feel light. 

Manuela stood. Balthus stayed where he was kneeling on the floor. She left a hand in his hair, petting at him, looking down at him with a fond smile on her lips. 

“Well,” she said, “go on then.”

Balthus hesitated. 

“My pussy, darling,” she said. 

“Oh.” Balthus’s eyes went so wide they threatened to pop right out of his head. He suddenly realized that when she stood it put her hips right at his head height, her cunt mere inches away. It would be so, so easy to lean forward, push aside her dress and get his mouth on her. 

Her hand left his hair and for an instant he feared with his whole being that she had grown tired of waiting for him. But when he looked up he saw Manuela working at the tie on her dress. When it came loose, she let the whole garment drop to the floor, her heavy breasts freed at last. 

Balthus’s mouth watered just gazing up at that, but he had a task far closer at hand. He dragged his eyes down, down the voluptuous curve of her waist, down the swell of her hips, down and down. 

“I can’t do everything for you,” she said. “You’re going to have to strip off the last bit all on your own.”

His hands were shamefully shaky when he reached for her undergarments and started to tug them down. He could feel the heat of her even before he exposed her. 

She set a hand in his hair. “Use your mouth on me. Use your tongue. Make me come, darling, and you’ll leave here with whatever you want.”

Balthus couldn’t imagine wanting anything but this, anything but what she’d just proposed, but he dove in anyway, mouth going right for that heat between her legs. It was sweet from the very first taste, so warm and vivid it set all his senses ablaze. 

He licked messily, haphazardly, like some bumbling virgin, but he couldn’t help it. She’d given him an order and he was so eager to obey it that there was no time for subtle skill. His tongue pushed against her folds, struggling to get in deeper, to taste more of her.

“Fingers.” 

The word burst out in a breath, but Balthus still heard the command in it. It tugged at him, pushed him, enticed him. He hurried to heed it, using his fingers to open Manuela to him.

His tongue wriggled in, licking past the pillow softness of her pussy and to the sweeter depths beyond. Her hand tightened in his hair when he found her clit and she sucked in a sharp breath. 

“There,” Manuela rasped. “Good boy, right there.”

He moaned against her, moaned at the moniker, at the way her hand held his head in place, even at the tingle of pain in his knees. How long had he been on the floor before her? Too long and not nearly long enough. Even as his knees ached, he knew he’d stay there as long as she let him. 

Balthus kept lapping at her clit, drinking down her heady musk, but his fingers wandered. Heat lit the way to her wet entrance. He swirled a finger around it and Manuela bucked against his hand, moaning above him. 

He dared not move that finger out of place. Balthus trailed along her entrance as a fresh wave of wetness coated his skin. 

“In.”

He moaned against her at the directive. His finger nudged in, sliding against the wetness, sinking into her heat. 

She held his hair in a strangling grip, sighing, trembling against him. Balthus pumped his finger and she rocked her hips in response. Manuela pressed his face closer, until he was nearly suffocating in her pungent arousal. 

He wouldn’t have jerked away even if she let him.

He buried his face against her, sucking and licking at her, thrusting that finger, rumbling out groans as she moaned and rolled above him. 

“Fuck,” she gasped. “Oh, you’re so good at that. You’re so good. My good boy, my very good boy. You know just how to do that.”

“Mmm,” he whined against her. 

“Gods, you’re gonna make me come.” 

“Mmm.” 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Manuela said. “You’d like my come on your hand. You want it.”

“Mhmm.” He yearned to agree, even as he desperately tried to press even closer with his mouth. 

“I’ll l-let you have it then,” she said. “For being – for being so _good_.” 

The final word came out long and high, strained with lust as she clenched around his finger, hips pressing forward. Wetness coated his finger, warm and fragrant and fresh. He pumped right through it, until she eased him away from her cunt.

Manuela clung to his shoulders as she lowered to the floor to kneel with him. They were both breathing hard, both flushed. Balthus couldn’t help looking at her breasts as they heaved with each breath, nipples still hard. It made his cock strain against its confines. 

Her smell was everywhere. Balthus licked his lips, tasting her anew, then realized his finger was still wet, freshly wet.

He brought it to his mouth, analyzing his own hand for a moment before he slipped that digit into his mouth and sucked. Instantly, her taste flooded his senses, filled his nose, his chest, his gut. He laved his tongue over his finger, searching for every last drop.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Manuela said. 

Balthus popped his finger out. She was watching him, watching him like a tiger with meat dangling in its face. 

Manuela pushed him to the floor. He went willingly, easily, happy to be on his back with her straddling his hips. 

She kissed him, pinning him down by the mouth, jabbing her tongue past his lips to taste herself in him. 

“You,” she said, sitting up. 

He blinked. Was she upset? She looked somewhere between angry and hungry and he wasn’t quite sure what that meant. 

She flew into motion, tearing at the laces of his pants, shoving them down, giving his hard cock a few swift pumps. She was still holding him when she spoke. 

“I’m going to ride you,” she said. “Stay right there.”

“Y-yes, ma’am.”

She smiled. “Good boy.” 

She sat up on her knees, angling him at her entrance, easing down to take him in. He arched, hands going for her thighs, squeezing soft flesh. Manuela set her hands on his chest, still lowering, taking him all the way to the hilt. Then she bucked her hips – hard – and a yelp jumped up Balthus’s throat. 

It was pathetic, how quickly she was getting him riled up. At this rate, she’d reach her second orgasm long after he reached his first. But her taste was still in his mouth and nose, her tits were bouncing above him, her hips were rocking on him, her cunt was encasing him in warmth so sweet and enticing. Already, he felt pulled taut, everything drawing inward into a trembling mass. 

He reached for her breasts. They were too close and too tempting to deny. 

She moaned when he had them in hand. She moaned again when he squeezed. Balthus had always thought of himself as big – tall, broad, just all around big – but her tits easily filled his hands and then some. 

“Rougher,” she said.

He gripped harder, pushed and massaged and plucked and anything else he could manage from on his back. And the whole time her hips kept bucking against him, her heat closing tight around him. He concentrated hard on his hands to keep from coming then and there, but finally she started hitching forward a bit, her moans getting higher. 

“So close,” she said. 

Never had sweeter words hit his ears. 

He jerked his hips up and she cried out. Balthus couldn’t manage much from the position he was in, but apparently it was enough.

“Gods, yes,” she said. “Yes.”

He released her tits, going for her thighs to help her frantic rolling and swaying atop him. Manuela gripped him by the hair, forcing his head back so he had to look directly up at her. 

“Come.” 

It was a slap, a whip crack, a bolt of lightning right to the chest. He did. The instant she told him to, he did, spilling inside her, coming with a cry, his whole body going taut. 

Her moan joined his. Then they both slumped down, the heat of their bodies slick between them as she lay on his chest and breathed hard against him.

#

Balthus couldn’t honestly remember much of the rest of the night. He knew he got dressed at some point. He knew he left. He knew he walked home. But he couldn’t dredge up more than brief glimpses of any of it.

When he returned to the underground, he only barely recalled his name.

“Well.”

Balthus startled, actually startled, letting out a sad little yelp and jerking up straighter. It took him a good three seconds to realize Yuri was right there in front of him, hands on his hips, one thin eyebrow raised in question.

“H-hey.” 

Realization arrived slowly, the fog in his mind gradually receding until he comprehended that he was utterly empty-handed.

“Shit,” Balthus rasped.

“Hm?”

“The, uh, the medicine... I … don’t have it.” 

Balthus rubbed the back of his neck, shifting from foot to foot.

Yuri’s smirk stretched to breaking. Wait, was he actually going to laugh? What in all the hells was so funny about this? Those violet eyes bore into Balthus’s, gleaming with mirth. 

Yuri wasn’t angry. Why the fuck wasn’t Yuri angry? Why was he just standing there smiling? It had to be obvious that Balthus had gotten … distracted. His hair was a mess. His clothing was half undone. He looked like he’d either gotten into a fight or fucked someone and in some sense both were true. 

And Yuri was just gods damned smiling at him. 

Almost as if...

Almost as if he wasn’t surprised.

“What medicine?” Yuri said.

He patted Balthus on the shoulder, leaving him dumbfounded and disheveled in the hall.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


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